


Asleep

by onestrangenovelist



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (maybe borderline suicidal), Gen, Post 5X13, Warning: dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestrangenovelist/pseuds/onestrangenovelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”And this is his life. He lies, he breathes, he stares, he sleeps, and when he wakes the cycle starts all over again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so long story short I wrote this for bbcmerlinfest on tumblr maybe 8 months ago and then totally forgot about it until today where my tumblr dashboard became full of 5x13 posts-- and then I thought wow, perfect timing, why don't we post this somewhere in remembrance. So tada, here it is! Hopefully some of you enjoy this :)
> 
> PS thanks to everyone on my Gwen team for cheering me on in this fest at the time! You all were so nice!

For Merlin, the days weave in and out.

He's never truly awake, not anymore. It seems like Camlann had happened long ago, but he isn't too sure. It's hard to tell the flow of time burrowed deep within a cave. The rays of light come in as slivers here and it kind of looks all the same at this point. If he really wanted to, he could learn the way the light changes direction on the wall according to the hour. Obviously, he hasn't bothered to do that. He'll get it though. Someday. Eventually.

And it's not like he doesn't go out at all. He does because sometimes the hunger pains really get to him. As much as he thinks he would rather not eat, his body forces him to, on some kind of autopilot. It makes him lift his aching body up from its limp position on the ground, taking a few wobbly first steps before, finally, making him trudge out into the too bright world and its too loud noise. He's torn between thinking it his instinct or magic. He'd hate to think it magic though. In his mind, it's lost its purpose and it feels like a betrayal to persist in using it when that purpose is gone, gone, gone.

He hates that word. Gone.

Most days he spends curled onto his side on the rocky floor, still, breath shallow. His eyes watch the shadows scatter along the walls, forming, breaking, and reforming. He tries not to think at all, tries to become one with the earth. Still. Silent. Nonliving.

It's best when he slips into sleep. Sleep is nice, the unconsciousness is a haven to the thoughts rolling around in his brain, the memories he's constantly trying to repress. When he's asleep he doesn't have to worry about forcing himself not to think. It's a comfort really, to know that he sleeps as the king sleeps . . . as Arthur sleeps.

Until he awakens, his heart rate picking up at a frantic speed, gulping in breath, fearful for a moment that he's trapped again when his eyes catch sight of the blank cave wall, until the surge of magic flowing to his fingertips remind him that he isn't. Then he represses it, drops his gaze, and prays for another bout of sleep.

Except while sleep may prove to be his safe haven most of the time, it's actually quite brutal when he slips into dreams.

Some of them are replays of his earlier days of running errands as Arthur's servant when he is prince. Some of them quests with Arthur and his Round Table Knights shortly after he assumes the throne. Some of them take place during the bright Golden Age of the kingdom when Arthur truly posses all the love of his people.

No matter the scenario, they all take him back to Camelot. And they all involve Arthur.

'Of course they would,' Merlin thinks dryly because why, why would he ever dream of anyone else?

The dreams don't happen often. He can't tell if he's more grateful for that fact than he is hurt—because when they do happen he's immensely grateful for being able to see Arthur again. But, at the same time, he's aware that he's imagining it all up and it inflicts twice the pain on his already opened wounds.

And this is his life.

He lies, he breathes, he stares, he sleeps, and when he wakes the cycle starts all over again.

It seems mundane, easy, but in reality it's difficult to manage.

Especially difficult when all he wants is to be swallowed whole by the darkness that infiltrates the caves.

Gone.

Asleep.

/

The best dreams are the ones of the future of Camelot that did not come.

Arthur survives Camlann, Merlin calling life back into his listless body with surges of magic, with his prayers, with his voice. It's always a breathless shock, the way Arthur's eyes slowly blink open, the blue color of his irises so bright, bright amongst the dark grime that smatters the pale skin of his face, the faded golden of his hair. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as if he can't seem to recall why he's lying on the ground, or why Merlin is even there as a matter of fact, and he opens his mouth to speak—only he doesn't get the chance to because he ends up groaning in pain, the wound at his side unmerciful.

Merlin's smile is tight as he shushes him, forcing back the welling tears in his eyes at the loss almost encountered, whispering, "It's okay, you're safe. You're safe."

The events after that vary and blur, but they somehow make their way back to Camelot with the few able knights and infantry that Arthur has left. In the days that follow Arthur rests, Gwen never leaving his side, and the kingdom slowly recovers. People ease back into a state of normalcy, Arthur's army replenish their supplies and the knights work on rebuilding their strength.

Merlin assists in these transitions however he can. He helps out the knights on the training field, scrubs floors for the servants in the kitchen, but mostly he helps Gaius, who tends to Arthur, because he, like the rest of Camelot's people, greatly yearn to see their king on his feet again.

It all takes a while. Arthur is stuck in bed for a good amount but, slowly, he's able to begin walking again and, eventually, makes a grand court appearance when he is able to walk without limp. His brief appearance is an assurance to his patiently waiting people.

However, until Arthur is fully healed of all pain, Guinevere takes charge of Camelot as her Queen, managing debts and distributions, sustaining order with her strong-will and wise reasoning. Merlin thinks she does an excellent job and he tells her as much. She thanks him with a kind smile.

The day when Arthur officially returns to resume rule beside Guinevere over Camelot, the entire kingdom cheers and erupts with festivities. People dance and sing in the streets, chanting Camelot's victory, and a grand feast is held that evening in the king's honor. Merlin delights in the day. He chats with fellow servants as he tends to his duties, admiring the festive songs that explode as he walks through the lower town, and serves Arthur with enthusiasm that evening at the high table.

Arthur doesn't say much to him during the time. He's much too busy conversing with his knights and everyone else he hadn't the pleasure to see when he was healing, but when they do make eye contact he gains a soft look about him as he flashes him a smile. Comforting warmth fills Merlin's whole body and he thinks, 'yes, everything is as it should be.'

Except it isn't, not yet, and Merlin is in for a surprise when Arthur calls for a court meeting the following morning.

He thinks it may be a discussion about the current state and stability of the kingdom, but when Arthur announces that he would like to give someone "recognition along with a title that they rightly deserve" and then calls Merlin to move to the front, he's practically paralyzed.

It takes some prodding from the knights to get him moving again because he cannot believe this is happening and, as he takes a stand before Arthur at the front of the room, he ducks his head, wishing he were nothing but an unimportant servant. It's strange how now that he has everyone's attention he wishes he didn't have it.

"I would like to honor you as Camelot's official Court Sorcerer." Arthur then says, adding, "If you will accept it."

Merlin can't even bring himself to speak, a rock seemingly stuck in his throat. Even nodding proves difficult because he absolutely cannot begin to believe the words that he is hearing. Arthur wants him as Court Sorcerer? In a position that hasn't been filled since the years before his birth?

Merlin's senses dull. The shades of the room become grey, the shapes indistinguishable until they fade away to the color of darkness behind his eyelids. He becomes conscious of his body again, the harsh ground of the cave digging into his sides, the cold sweat matting the dark hair on his forehead. He opens his eyes . . . and breathes.

/

One day Merlin wakes to the sight of Gwen. She's poised far away at the mouth of the cave in her long draping purple dress, her expression distressed at the sight of him.

Merlin scrambles to get up knowing that lying about on grimy ground is no way to greet a Queen but, also knowing, that Gwen is his friend and he doesn't want her to worry about him when she has much more to worry about than Merlin. However, Merlin can't quite get to his feet. The world spins dangerously even just sitting up right and his empty stomach lurches awfully in protest, so he settles for bracing one hand on the wall as he speaks gruffly. "Sorry, Gwen, I was just taking a nap and I—"

He stops when he looks toward the entrance again to find it empty. He is automatically confused, turning his head to see if maybe she'd come around to sit behind him, but he finds that he's alone.

Merlin decides that she must've left while he was trying to gain footing. Though it hurts him to think that a friend could leave him with just a look, Merlin surmises that perhaps Gwen is disappointed and angry with him. He did refuse to return to Camelot after Camlann after all and never gave her a word of his whereabouts, not a thought to how broken she must've been at hearing about Arthur's death from a stranger. Not a thought to how she might've wanted to hear it from Merlin who was with the king in his final moments, to have his comfort and trust as a friend during the hard moments of aftermath.

Merlin eases himself back to ground. Guilt doubles his nausea. He thinks that it's better that she left because he really doesn't think the countless apologies he might've given would have done anything to make up for the ache of her loss.

/

In the following week, Merlin is paid a visit by Leon and Percival.

Percival appears in the same way that Gwen does, silent and big at the mouth of the cave as Merlin attempts to appear human—but, of course, as soon as he manages to crawl to his knees, Percival is gone. Merlin flops back down with a hapless sigh.

Leon, at least, takes a few tentative steps forward after Merlin almost hurls. His body is weak and upset by these sudden jerky movements and, really, he's moved a lot more in the past week or so than he possibly has in days. He hears Leon ask if he's alright as Merlin fights back against the bile in his throat.

When Merlin gets his body back under control he's able to nod and reply thanks. He's about to make up some excuse as to why that almost happened rather than "I'm taking obvious poor care of myself" when he looks over to find Leon gone as well. Merlin has half a second to be puzzled by the same situation, yet again, before he curls forward and throws up all over a good portion of the ground he sits on.

It burns and he ends up crying because his stomach doesn't seem to realize that there's nothing else to throw up. So he spends a good while coughing and wheezing through violent dry heaves.

When it's over, the visit with Leon is all forgotten. Merlin barely has the energy to crawl, shakily on hands and knees across the cave to a drier area, curling into himself as he settles into a fitful sleep.

/

The next week, Merlin awakes from sleep to the screeching protest of his aching joints and bones. Normally, he ignores it because otherwise he has to move and Merlin likes to move as little as possible after last week's incident. After a while though, the aches become knife-sharp pains that he can't ignore so he manages to turn sluggishly onto his other side.

However, as he does this he blinks a bit and, when he does, his eyes snap fully open at the sight of none other than Arthur. Arthur, who smiles coy and golden-haired, his chain mail shining as he waits at the mouth of the cave.

Merlin's paralyzed. His breathing instantly becomes frantic as his mind switches to over-drive with thoughts of 'how' and 'why' and 'it's not possible.'

"Are you just going to be laying about in the dirt all day, Merlin?" He speaks, his tone playful. A loud, choked, garbled noise comes out from Merlin's throat as he instantly squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head because, why, it can't be, it hurts so much.

When he opens his eyes again, Arthur is gone. Just like Leon, just like Percival, just like Gwen, and then, Merlin realizes, they were never there in the first place. They were wild hallucinations conjured by his mind from months upon months of isolation deep within this carved out cave.

He thinks, for probably the very first time, that he needs to go outside more.

/

It only takes him two days to bring himself to face the prospect of going outdoors willingly.

His legs wobble, hurting from not walking as often, but he finds that breathing feels rather good. The air is clean and the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots is practically as soothing as a lullaby.

He walks to find food.

After spending sometime gathering berries and trapping forest animals for meat and eating, Merlin decides walking aimlessly for the rest of the day is a whole lot better than returning to the cave. He's honestly afraid of the visions.

He doesn't actually recognize where he is in this vast forest but he does know Camelot lies east because that's where the sun rises . . . and Camalann lies west. He tries not to think about that.

He passes trees and bushes, ferns and air plants, until he looks up and finds himself at the Lake of Avalon.

He sighs and curses his traitorous feet for bringing him back here but, at the same time, thanks them.

The lake is vast and as calm as it was the last time he was here. The light that hits the surface of the water makes it glimmer and it looks almost holy, glowing in the middle of this circle of trees. The birds sing their songs louder here, sweet tones carried in the wind, and the soft breeze is a comfort as it cools his skin.

Merlin walks to the shore and sits. The water laps at the edges of his crossed legs, soaking the material of his breeches. He stares out to the lake in silence.

He wonders how Arthur is.

He imagines his friend in a peaceful sleep, hidden away in the waters of Avalon that once threatened to drown him, take his life, but now keep him safe. Keeps him safe from the selfish evils of this world, of its violent battles and traitorous peoples, of its kind Queens, honorable knights, and limitless magic.

Merlin thinks, not for the first time, why things have to be the way they are.

Arthur was brave and bold and believed in the heart of his people. He understood where his father couldn't and forgave in situations where most others wouldn't. He showed kindness when he needed to and was just. He adored Camelot and Camelot adored him back.

Why then, if he was the best king that Albion would ever see, why did he have to be taken away? So quickly? So easily?

'So unfairly,' He thinks, digging his fingernails into the moist soil.

He heaves a restless sigh and buries his face in his hands, wishing he that he was back in the cave.

Unexpectedly, a massive wave rises up and splashes him right in the chest. He splutters at the few grains of dirt that land in his mouth. He looks back to the water, eyebrows furrowed in confusion wondering where that had come from because the lake is so still. There's not a ripple to be seen.

He looks around until he is sure that someone hasn't joined him. Perhaps it was an animal of some sort swimming in the waters that caused the splash.

He settles back down to mope, tracing patterns in the sand with his index finger and it only takes all of maybe 3 seconds before he finds himself smacked in the face by another wave of lake water. He coughs harshly this time, wiping the sand out of his eyes muttering, 'what the hell?'

He peers between his fingers out at the body of water to find it calm, yet again, with no explanation for what has just happened—until it hits him.

"Arthur?"

He's motionless, for just a moment, and then he grins, lowering his hands from his face as he shouts, "You are such an arse!"

Then he turns over to grab the nearest solid object, a rock, and hurls it out as far into the lake as he can, where it drops with a loud splash.

"How do you like that, huh?" He asks, smugly, staring out into the waters. There's no response and, for a moment, Merlin falters. He thinks that maybe he's deluded himself, got it all wrong, but then there's an answering splash that tackles him from the side and he tumbles over into the sand, laughing, the cold water enveloping him before washing away.

Merlin is quick to get back up on his feet, grabbing an armful of pebbles from the shore before running into the shallow waters. He throws them every so often and then evades Arthur's churning waves in response, but also delights in being caught by them, pulled under the surface—and it almost feels like the familiar rows they used to have in Camelot. The ones where Arthur would chase him around his chambers for saying something insolent, wrestling him to the ground in a headlock until Merlin was able to wriggle out from under him to start the chase up all over again.

And he spends a good while here, running around in the Lake of Avalon, laughing like mad. His clothes are entirely soaked through and sticking to his skin, droplets running down his face from his matted hair. Finally feeling happy, the happiest he's been in a while, because he's not alone, his fears literally washed away now that he's been assured, 'Arthur's still here, he's still here.'

In one instance, he resurfaces after being pulled under and takes note of the sky as he gasps for air. It is dusk. There's a small thought at the back of his head saying that he should probably start heading out before dark descends and he can't find his way back to the cave, but he ignores it. He can't leave, can't go back to sitting in that dim cave alone, not when Arthur is here.

Instead of getting up to continue their play, however, Merlin finds himself simply sitting in the shallow end. The water laps gently at his chest and he closes his eyes, content, because it feels a little bit like being in Arthur's embrace, or sitting against his back. It's comforting.

Without even noticing it, Merlin drifts off into a light snooze, until he reawakens to the dark silence of night, shivering. But he doesn't want to leave, he can't, and simply brings his knees to his chest in a small effort retain some heat. It doesn't work. The water is cold and there's a breeze making his teeth chatter. He knows any sensible person would go home and warm themselves by a nice fire, but Merlin feels like if he gets up he'll fall right apart at the seams.

In a minute, he feels a pressure on his chest, pushing and Merlin's breath quickens, getting the message. He shakes his head frantically as he speaks, "No, Arthur, I'm not leaving. You can't make me."

But then the pressure comes again, lightly, and Merlin hears a splash come from behind him. He turns to look over his shoulder just in time to catch the receding wave and then understands what Arthur's trying to say. "Just go onto the shore, you idiot."

Merlin hesitates and, in the end, it's Arthur's impatience that gets him there, shoving him with the force of high waves until he's inevitably pushed onto dry land. Merlin coughs up water that he'd swallowed, trying to fight back, upset. He's about to get up to dive back into Avalon until a small rolling wave laps at his outstretched fingers and he stills, understanding that this is Arthur's reassurance. "It's alright. I'm not going anywhere."

He relaxes into the sand, suddenly warm, and he thinks it may be the magic of Avalon as his eyelashes flutter shut. He drifts to the sleep with the soft sound of the lake's waves rolling in the distance.

/

Merlin awakes to early daylight and light mist. He promptly sits and stretches, feeling better rested.

He looks over at the shimmering waters of Avalon beside him and smiles softly, calling out a good morning to Arthur.

His rumbling stomach distracts him, however, and he promptly decides he should get himself some breakfast as he gets to his feet. Hoping Arthur can see him, he gestures to the Lake that he will be right back.

After eating, Merlin finds himself once again, lounging at the shore. This time his boots are off and his feet are submerged below the surface as he picks at nearby flowers, busying himself in making them into a ring. In one moment he thinks he can just hear Arthur muttering in the distance, calling him a girl. He snorts at that but continues working on his arrangement.

Once he's done he gets up and lowers it gently onto the surface of the lake. He really didn't make it for Arthur or anything, but thinks that it looks nice, floating out to the center like that, all greens and blues and yellows and gold.

A sort of peace fills into his body, watching it drift away.

Without warning, Merlin's caught in a strong breeze, wind blowing in his ear. There's a voice, Arthur's voice, and he hears him whisper, "Go on, Merlin. Live."

So Merlin does.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this is kind of a make your own semi-happier ending sort of ending. I'd like to think Merlin got himself together and went back to Camelot and patched things up there, but really it's all up to you! Thanks for reading!


End file.
